


Stars, Hide Your Fires; Let Not Light See My Black and Deep Desires

by milodean



Category: Barry (TV 2018)
Genre: Camping, Dysfunctional Relationships, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Gay Panic, Humiliation, Kissing, Look at all these fucking tags, M/M, Mutual Pining, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Outdoor Sex, Post-Coital Cuddling, Power Play, Rough Oral Sex, Sexuality Crisis, Sexually Inexperienced Barry Berkman, Tenderness, barry berkman is an idiot, good for him, hank gets around, i cant believe i wrote this, these tags make it look rough as hell i promise there is actual fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-07-28 04:49:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20058286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milodean/pseuds/milodean
Summary: A relaxing woodland getaway soon becomes an excuse for two love-struck fools to relieve some tension.





	Stars, Hide Your Fires; Let Not Light See My Black and Deep Desires

"Do you ever get scared of bears sneaking up on you around here?"

"Not really."

Hank nodded awkwardly and the silence hung between them once more. Hank had been attempting to make conversation all evening, and each time it died out as quickly as it began. The fire that sat in between them spat and crackled violently, the orange glow being the only thing to illuminate their bodies in the open woods, except for the soft, pale light of the moon above. That fire was the soundtrack to their evening, and presumably to every evening for the next couple of days. Trees swished and rustled around them with a constant breeze that threatened to turn chilly if either of them removed a layer of clothing. Hank stuck out his tattooed hands, wiggling his fingers in an attempt to warm them in front of the fire, whereas Barry kept his hands stuffed stubbornly in the pockets of his coat. 

Barry was hunched over across from Hank at the other side of the fire. He kept his gaze fixed on the flames, either uncaring or oblivious to the fact that Hank was focused solely on him. Barry was like stone. A large, solid boulder. Unmoving, rough and cold to the touch. 

And that’s how Hank liked him. 

It had taken Hank quite a while to figure out how Barry operated. He felt as though he had become fluent in a new language, and secretly, he was proud of himself for being able to crack such a complex code. Despite Barry's quiet and reserved nature making him appear moody, he was really _nothing_ of the sort. Barry was simply deep in thought most of the time. About what, Hank didn't really know, but he assumed it had to be something smart and philosophical. Hank found great fun in speculating about what could be running through that brain of his. Another super cool and intricate plan to blow the heads off a bunch of enemy gangsters? Perhaps he was mulling over another scene he was working on? Barry was _so_ cool, living a double life like that. An assassin_ and _an actor? Those were the best jobs Hank could ever think of, and Barry got to do them both. It was like something straight out of a movie, and Hank felt honoured to be his sidekick.

Hank took a moment to study Barry's face, indulging himself in an exercise that he had partaken in countless times since they first met, one that never seemed to disappoint him. Thick, dark, arched eyebrows settled into a permanent frown that framed his features. Murky, purplish-blue shadows hung under his eyes, a testament to his wisdom and hard proof of a life fully lived. Stubble peppered his strong, stiff jaw and accentuated carved cheekbones, leaving Hank wondering, desperate to know how it would feel against his own skin. Barry was brooding and mysterious, intriguing and so undeniably _ macho _.

"What?" 

Barry's voice yanked him out of his own thoughts, rudely interrupting his silent fawning.

"Hm?"

The frown that hung on Barry’s face refused to shift. 

"...You were staring at me."

"...I was? Sorry..." 

Hank felt the soft heat of blossoming embarrassment and he followed Barry’s gaze back to the flames. Barry didn't make a big deal of it. He rarely made a big deal of anything. He sighed it off and returned to staring into the fire.

Barry sighed a lot, Hank had noticed. At first, he thought that Barry was constantly exasperated with him, but he gradually came to understand that it was just Barry's way of relaxing. He was letting things go, expelling energy. That was a talent. Hank knew that in order to achieve a state as zen as Barry's, you had to be able to let things go.

Hank properly averted his gaze and looked towards the trees. Deep shades of green seeped through the blackness if he strained his eyes just enough. They darted around branches and tree trunks, trying to peer through the darkness of the deeper woods and stay on the lookout for any bears that dared to show up. Little by little, the faint gurgle of anxiety arose inside him. Hank liked to think that he wasn't afraid of much, but the thought of a bear nearby well and truly gave him the heebie-jeebies, which went against everything he'd written in his Grindr bio.

The breeze began to pick up. It felt uncertain, like a warning for something Hank was not yet aware of. It circled him and further provoked the twisting gurgle in his stomach as he started to wonder what other dark creatures lurked between the trees. If a bear _ did _ arrive, at least Barry could shoot it for him. You couldn't shoot a ghost. You couldn't shoot Slenderman... Or perhaps you could, Hank didn't really know. But he wasn't too keen on finding out. A shudder rippled through him and he attempted to shake it off, wiggling his arms and shaking his head, following it with a soft "Brr!" sound.

The sound caught Barry's attention, or at least some of it. Absent-mindedly, his gaze rose lazily from the fire, his eyes somewhat glazed over as he turned his partial attention to Hank for the fourth or fifth time that evening.

"Hm?"

Hank turned to check the space behind him. Finding nothing, he shot a panicked frown in Barry's direction.

"Slenderman."

Barry mimicked Hank's frown, this time with a fair amount of added confusion and annoyance. Their stares remained at odds for a moment. 

"...What about him?" Barry’s voice stayed soft and monotone with preoccupation, and Hank's body turned a little stiffer in his seat. His hands rested gingerly on his thighs and he released an apprehensive sigh, tattooed fingers beginning to fidget with the hem of his shorts.

"Well, what if he's here?"

Hank watched intently as Barry's eyes flickered to the trees. His expression remained the same, confused and disgruntled, with Hank's general presence adding a few more lines around his features.

"...I don't think he's real, Hank."

A sudden gust of wind swept up the silence that fell between them. A chorus of rustling leaves echoed in Hank's ears and made his heart thud in his chest. A cool tingle crept across his skin as he watched Barry across from him, over the top of leaning flames. His figure remained still in the panic of the wind, seemingly the only thing in the entire woods, including Hank, that kept calm at that moment.

As the wind died down, returning to its gentle breeze, Hank looked down to the fire.

"_ Freaky _."

Hank spoke quietly, but Barry raised his eyebrows in an I-guess-so kind of way. Running his hands back and forth over his knees, the chilly air began to get to him despite the fire’s presence. 

"I am _ so _ cold..." He mumbled. He felt his jaw tremble as his teeth started to chatter softly. 

"I told you not to wear shorts," Barry replied sternly.

Hank shrugged.

"We're camping! It's _ supposed _ to be nice."

"You're supposed to wear appropriate clothing," Barry bit back without any hesitation. Hank had grown accustomed to his snappish nature, and by this point, he was just glad to have Barry talk to him.

Barry didn't mess around when it came to camping. That became _ very _ clear earlier that day when Hank had texted Barry just to catch up on things. He asked what Barry was up to, and before he knew it, Hank was waiting outside Barry's car with a large backpack a sleeping bag, ready to go and totally uninvited.

It turned out that Barry did this sort of thing often. There would be occasions when Hank wouldn't hear from him for days at a time, his calls would go straight to voicemail and Hank would work himself up into a panic assuming he was dead. Sometimes it made him cry. Hank told him this in the car, and he glanced over just in time to catch Barry's jaw clench. Hank didn’t understand what that meant, but he knew it made him feel uneasy. Neither of them spoke for 20 minutes after that conversation.

The tent was difficult work. Perhaps it was more Barry that was difficult work, Hank had to admit. Hank merely wished to assist, to make himself useful, and after 2 unsuccessful attempts, Barry resorted to yelling something about 'being prepared in survival situations' and ordered him to wait by the car. 

So, Hank was well aware that Barry was an expert at this. However, if a Slenderbear happened to emerge from the woods, then both of them would be toast, camping expert or not. 

"I'm_ supposed _ to have fun. This is camping trip. We are meant to have _ fun _, Barry."

Hank's tone was delicate, yet still a little condescending. He was a professional at walking the tightrope between the two, especially with Barry. Trying his luck with him was a guilty pleasure of his. He loved hearing himself creep closer to that exposed nerve with every utterance. There was something about the distinct look that Barry shot his way or his occasional scathing remarks that Hank found thrilling. He knew, deep beneath his stoic outer shell, that Barry was wild and unpredictable. Hank was - for lack of a better term - poking the bear.

It was quite remarkable how Hank continued to hang around him after all they had been through, let alone chose to provoke him as one of his hobbies. He remembered it all, every time Barry spat obscenities down the phone, every time Barry pointed a gun at him, every time Barry pushed him around and manhandled him. He _ especially _ remembered those times. 

Plus, for such an intelligent and calm man, Barry sure was easy to set off. They were both well aware of that.

A smile twitched at the corners of Hank’s mouth, smug and impish. Well, if Barry didn’t want any sass, he shouldn’t have commented on his shorts. Hank’s legs were his pride and joy.

“This is _ my _ camping trip, you _ invited yourself along _ . If you want to have fun you can do it somewhere else, by yourself. _ I _ came here to get away.”

There it was. He had a bite, though this time it didn’t feel quite as good. It felt different. It was Barry’s signature irritated tone, but with none of the usual name-calling. There was no threat. As Barry’s words replayed in his mind, Hank fell silent, and the smile that lurked on his lips and threatened to push up his cheeks in celebration of having the upper hand began to die a slow death. He suspected there was more to his last words and the thought of what it was that Barry wanted so desperately to get away from pushed on Hank’s chest and forced his heart to sink.

He caught Barry’s eyes over the flames once again. Confronting painful truths was never easy, but he was no chicken. His insides felt hollow but they still tingled with unease. He nibbled at his lower lip and took in a deep breath, making sure he did not pull his gaze away from Barry.

“...I thought we could maybe get away together, that’s all.”

The wind died down around them. It was still terribly chilly, and Hank was on the brink of trembling. His words dropped to an awkward silence and crackle of the fire grew louder but was unable to compete with the sound of his heartbeat thudding in his ears.

Barry’s stare had a hold on him. There was an unfamiliar tenderness around his eyes that plucked at Hank’s heartstrings. His frown had faded, but traces of it remained in his way his eyebrows arched or the way his lips pursed ever so slightly. Once again, there was a soft twitch in his jaw where it clenched. He was so dreadfully gorgeous.

After what felt like a painful couple of minutes, but in reality was more like an agonising few seconds, Barry looked away. Hank had effectively stared him out, however, he didn't feel good about it.

Barry never did respond.

Something troublesome squirmed inside Hank, but he was determined not to let his unease ruin their trip. That wasn’t his style. He rose from his seat slowly, reluctant to leave the warmth of the fire, and made his way over to his backpack which was sitting just outside the tent. Branches and leaves snapped and crunched beneath his feet as he moved, and Barry refused to look up.

Picking up his floral backpack, he pulled out a sizeable bag of marshmallows and a small bottle of rosé wine. The sound of another zipper was enough to make Barry twist his body to glance over out of curiosity, just in time to see Hank rummaging through Barry’s backpack.

“Hey- _ Hey _! What are you doing? Get the fuck out of my bag!”

Hank retrieved a bottle of beer, with a “ta-da!” and a triumphant grin. Barry opened his mouth to say something, but Hank cut him off immediately.

“Oh, _ chill, _would you? I could hear your bag clinking from a mile away.”

Barry had no choice but to observe from his chair as Hank stuck the bottle to his lips with a playful smugness. He nestled the hard metal cap between his front teeth and with a skilful jerk of his wrist, he popped it off and spat it into his hand as gracefully as he could. With a sharp hiss, foam surged up the neck of the bottle. Hank hurriedly wrapped his lips around the top and slurped up the smooth, milky froth before it had a chance to spill. It tasted bitter and strong, very fitting for Barry. As he licked his lips, Hank awkwardly shifted his stance as he realised that neither of them had broken eye contact.

Hank handed the bottle over. Barry was staring at him with a look Hank couldn’t quite put his finger on, it was something nonplussed yet a little wild. He figured Barry wasn’t too keen on the idea of someone else drinking from his bottle.

“...There‘s a bottle opener in my…” Barry turned back around to the fire. His focus was clearly elsewhere, his sentence trailed off and he took a swig of his beer, gesturing behind himself to the bag Hank had just been searching through.

Hank shrugged it off and jubilantly sauntered back to his chair, dragging it by the arm all the way over to Barry’s side and setting it beside him, so close that the metal legs interlocked. He quickly scanned the ground before grabbing two sticks and happily thrusting one in Barry’s direction, who took it from him, unamused.

He appreciated that Barry didn’t object to sitting and eating marshmallows with him. He knew, deep down, that Barry was a big softie. Deep, deep, deep down. He set the bag down in between them and they both leaned to reach in.

For a moment, just a split second, their fingertips brushed. Not long enough for Hank to properly know how Barry’s fingers felt, but long enough for the butterflies in his stomach to start fluttering. He retrieved a marshmallow and glanced over at Barry, who didn’t seem to notice.

He turned his attention back to his stick and pushed the marshmallow onto the end of it, squeezing it down and pouting in approval. Leaning in closer to the fire, he began to toast.

He could swear, in the corner of his eye, he saw Barry return the glance.

They sat quietly, this time, the silence was a slightly more comfortable one, settling unnoticed and not hanging awkwardly between them. It was lovely. Hank watched the colour of his marshmallow change as he twirled his stick, letting it dance over the flames, slowly warming to a golden-brown shade. Barry moved his a little, keeping it low down and engulfed in flames, happy to cremate it.

Slowly, Hank pulled his stick away, watching his expertly toasted marshmallow glow with a tiny flame, which he blew out gently. His eyes were fixed on the gooey treat and his tongue slipped out just past his lips as he braced his mouth for the delicious heat.

“_ Shit. _” Barry hissed. 

His marshmallow had dropped from the end of his stick. They both watched on as the charred goo disappeared into the flames. Hank was amused, but only a little.

“...Aw, bad luck, man. Take mine!”

Hank held out his stick with a soft smile, pushing his own marshmallow in Barry’s direction.

“Come on, open up!” 

Barry attempted to move his head back but the marshmallow was too close to Barry’s lips to push it away, so he obeyed, parting his lips and pulling it off the stick in one bite. Hank watched as the orange glow of the fire shone on his skin, emphasising his strong features. His eyelashes almost skimmed the tops of his cheeks as he looked down. His sharp, chiselled jaw moving was enough to make Hank squirm in his seat. Barry sucked in a little cool air, and as he chewed, Hank was convinced he saw the beginnings of a smile dare to tickle the corner of his lips.

“Thanks.” Barry nodded in approval of the marshmallow, and Hank felt a surge of pride at his toasting skills. He made a mental note to remember just how utterly divine Barry looked when being fed a toasted marshmallow, for future reference.

The night ran into the wee hours of the morning, the number of marshmallows in the bag whittled down and the roaring fire gradually began to die as the hours crept by. Embers revealed themselves and the once-great blaze dwindled to minuscule flames. It turned out that with a single beer, a bag of marshmallows and persistent chatter, Barry was capable of opening up. Hank even managed to pull a few laughs out of him. He’d never seen him properly laugh before. It was only a few small chuckles, but he still valued them all the same. His nose wrinkled and his cheeks rounded, adding more lines around his eyes. It was enchanting. Hank’s heart felt full, but it still pulsed with the bittersweet sting of knowing it wouldn’t last forever.

Hank slouched slightly in his chair, gazing fondly over at Barry, who had his head up pointed towards the blanket of stars above them. The cold nipped at him, even more so since the fire had died down. His eyes grew heavy, the taste of rosé wine and sweet marshmallows lingered on his tongue, and the only thing that skulked in the shadows was his tiredness. He would ignore it forever if it meant he could stay like this, with Barry.

“How long have you been in America?” Barry asked without looking down.

Hank sighed in thought.

“About 3 years now, I think. Best decision I _ ever _ made.” 

Barry nodded and joined Hank in a semi-slouch in his own chair.

“What made you come over?” 

Barry looked over to him, raising a thick eyebrow. His eyes were half-lidded and Hank noticed that his voice was quiet and croaky with sleepiness.

“Well, it was a work thing. You know, with Goran. But honestly? I’ve wanted to be in America since I can remember, man,” Hank shrugged and a tired, half-smile worked its way across his lips. “It’s just so much cooler. You can be anything you want to be out here, no judgement. Land of brave, home of free, you know?”

Barry nodded in hesitant agreement, and his soft smile slowly wilted as he looked back up to the stars. He swallowed and shifted in his chair before inhaling quietly.

“What do you mean by that...?”

“By what?” Hank’s head tilted at Barry’s words in a dog-like fashion. 

Barry seemed reluctant to respond as he took in another breath and his fingers curled around the arms of his chair.

“Like… When you say you can be anything you want… What was it that you wanted to be?”

Hank had no qualms about answering personal questions, but he was caught off-guard by Barry’s sudden interest in him.

“...Myself, I guess.”

Barry nodded timorously, starting to chew at his bottom lip. Hank continued.

“People are just more accepting, especially in California… As much as I love my family, I did not get that back home.”

“‘S good that you got out,” Barry’s soft, croaky voice started to sound less tired and more melancholy. Hank hated the thought of Barry feeling bad for him, but at the same time, it reaffirmed his suspicion that Barry really _ was _ a gentle giant. “...I’m glad you’re here.”

His words lit a heat across Hank’s cold cheeks. It sparked that nervous flutter inside him once more and as he took in a breath, a sense of hope began to flourish in his lungs. He couldn’t understand what he felt hopeful for, which was just as perplexing as it was humiliating. He sighed, and as his chest fell, Barry caught his eye. 

Their gazes lingered on each other, connecting _ something _ to _ something else _. A silent agreement had been made that Hank hadn’t caught up on. His heart leapt into his throat. Barry’s words trembled inside him, rattling him to his fingertips.

Suddenly, white-hot bashfulness got the best of them both, and they tore their eyes away. Hank’s fingers fiddled with the rough material on the arm of the chair, and he was determined to keep his focus there.

“...I-Is there any reason you asked?” He questioned faintly. He waited for Barry’s response.

He kept waiting.

Whatever moment was shared between them had dissipated, and the uncomfortable, unbearable silence hung in the air again, so jarring it forced Hank to look at Barry out of pure concern.

“I think I’m just curious,” muttered Barry. “...We should go to sleep.”

Hank nodded, his need to escape whatever atmosphere had formed around them being the only thing that powered his weary body to move.

They stood up and Hank stretched, balancing on his tiptoes and reaching up towards constellations as he took in a yawn. Barry silently extinguished the last of the flames and smoke billowed upwards, leaving them in total blackness.

* * *

They spent the next 10 minutes or so getting ready for bed. They shimmied down into their individual sleeping bags and with an awkward lump lodged in Hank’s throat, he said ‘goodnight’.

The sleeping bag was no match for Hank’s own bed, but it would do. If he laid right, then he could get a _ little _ more comfortable, but he couldn’t ignore the feeling of the hard and uneven ground beneath the tent. And he was _ cold _. So cold. The fire was long gone and despite his efforts to bundle himself up, he couldn’t stop his trembling.

The tent was pitch black, and the pair were swallowed in darkness, only adding to the queasy feeling inside him. The rustling of leaves, the chirping of crickets and the hooting of owls were unpleasantly prominent. He pouted, coming to terms with the fact that he missed his white noise machine. He longed for his whale sounds and the TV and his phone and all of his gadgets. He was certain he could tackle the great outdoors for a few measly nights, and admittedly, he was doing perfectly fine, he just didn’t_ want to be there _. He wanted to be in his own bed, pining over Barry from the safety of his own Facebook feed, and not being subjected to the torture of his gentle breaths just inches away from himself.

He assumed Barry had already fallen asleep. Hank, on the other hand, tossed and turned restlessly in his sleeping bag. The freezing air prickled his skin. It pinched at his toes and gnawed on his ears, and no matter how far he pushed his face into the pillow, he couldn’t stop his teeth from chattering. A sensation of dread plunged down into his stomach as he considered the possibility of never getting to sleep at all.

It was a last resort, but he turned once more, in Barry’s direction, and tugged softly at his sleeping bag.

“_ ...Barry? _” 

“...Yeah?” Barry’s hushed voice replied.

He was surprised to hear Barry respond at all. By the sound of it, Barry was already turned to face him. Hank didn’t want to think too much about that.

“I’m _ so _ cold. I can’t get warm.”

“_ Still? _”

“_ Yeah _. It’s like, super freezing. I don’t know how you’re not cold.”

He thought he heard Barry sigh, but maybe he didn’t. A silence fell that seemed to hang for longer than Hank liked, then came another rustle of a sleeping bag.

“...Come here.”

A few moments later, he felt his sleeping bag being tugged at and opened.

“_ Come on _,” Barry whispered.

It took a minute for it to dawn on him, that Barry was indeed_ inviting him into his sleeping bag _.

Surely this wasn’t right. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. Or maybe it was, Hank never thought he would get this far. He already felt tightly packed into his own sleeping bag, there was no way they could both fit in one.

As the lump in his throat turned his breathing shallow, he took a moment to survey the situation in order to calm his internal panic. Agreement number 3 in _ The Four Agreements _ was _ ‘Don’t make assumptions’ _ , and he knew it wasn’t wise to assume that Barry wanted anything to do with him in _ that _ way. After all, Barry was a survival expert. He was simply sharing body heat so Hank didn’t freeze to death overnight, which was an incredibly kind deed, one that deserved to be appreciated in an appropriate manner, which, to Hank’s dismay, most likely didn’t include his erection digging into Barry’s muscly thighs.

With trepidation, he scooted over into the warmer, softer sleeping bag that Barry was holding open for him. Barry was so warm. _ Everything _ was so warm. It enveloped him, it soaked into his skin and he began to thaw, breathing it in and exhaling with relief, taking in Barry’s scent. Smoke and the smell of the great outdoors remained on him, but he was close enough to enjoy the humble scent of laundry detergent and cheap deodorant that mingled into the fabric of his shirt.

Their bodies were pushed together, brushing and breathing in time. Barry’s soft breaths were landing on his lips and it felt _ right _. It was turning him dizzy. 

“Closer. I gotta close it.”

Hank could smell the single beer he had an hour ago still dancing on his breath, and it came to his attention just how close they really were. He didn’t know how much closer he could actually get before he was on top of him. Barry reached over him, warm fingers brushed still-cool skin and Hank was certain he heard a soft gasp. A tingle coursed down his spine at the sensation, and as Barry closed them in, the tight squeeze made the tips of their noses bump. 

“Of course you’re freezing, you’re not fucking wearing anything.” 

Barry’s voice was a faint hiss but Hank could hear everything. His breath was hot on his face and the slight irritation in his voice was nothing short of a shameful turn-on. He considered turning over before shrugging softly.

“...I don’t like sleeping with clothes on.”

“I hope you’re wearing underwear.”

“Oh, yeah.” Hank’s hand shimmied down and snapped the waistband of his boxers against his skin. He felt another soft breath on his face.

“Good.”

Hank got comfortable after a while, but he took a few moments to revel in Barry’s warmth and overall presence. He was almost purring, stretching his legs ever so slightly and playfully sliding a foot against Barry’s. He knew he was well and truly pushing his luck, but that’s what he did best. Barry’s slow, rhythmic breaths were hypnotic. Hank began to wonder why neither of them had turned away yet.

Hank’s eyelids felt heavy, so he let them close. He moved his head closer to Barry’s again, letting the tips of their noses touch softly another time, purely to check the proximity of their faces in the dark. There was an excitable warmth in his chest that tingled all the way down to his stomach, and with the smallest of movements powered solely by his own libidinous mischief, he shook his head slowly, brushing the tip of his nose against Barry’s. His insides fizzed with eagerness. It was a bold risk, and if Barry wasn’t interested, he would stop.

But he heard Barry’s breath hitch in his throat, and he swallowed.

It was Barry who pushed their lips together. Soft and relaxed, not too puckered. It was innocent and sweet, so gentle Hank wondered if it was accidental. As their mouths lingered on one another's, Hank allowed himself to take it in. His thudding heart was rocketed back into his throat and the soft shudder of breath on his skin was _ not _ his own, he was pretty certain of that.

So he kissed back, deeper, making it very clear that this was no mistake. He cupped Barry’s angular jaw and let his fingertips glide across rough stubble. He bubbled with satisfaction at the feeling, it was a satisfaction akin to finally sitting down on the couch after a long day, or the first gulp of ice-cold water in a heatwave.

Barry’s movements were timid and experimental. As his hand closed over Hank’s waist and Hank’s fingers combed through his hair, they soon became a mess of accidental whimpers and needy sighs. A delightful shiver inched its way down Hank’s body as Barry’s thumb stroked his skin, the feeling of Barry touching him, anywhere, was marvellous. Pushing back and forth, their lips pressing and moving together, they melted into a slow rhythm with ease. Hank craved more, but he was _ not _ going to scare him off. That’s what he told himself.

...He wasn’t expecting Barry’s tongue to sweep out across lower lip or his fingers to press into his skin so forcefully. Almost on cue, he groaned. _Loud_. His leg slid up around Barry’s waist and Barry grabbed his thigh. He could feel the prickle of sweat on his skin, hungry to know where this was all going and desperate to get there.

During their match of rocking hips and echoing whines, Barry’s very curious fingers landed on Hank’s ass, and Hank couldn’t hold back. He tugged at the hem of Barry’s shirt and before he could lift it off him, Barry had already broken away and was tearing it off himself, quickly tossing it to the other end of the tent and yanking Hank back in with a vigour that forced a whimper out of him, which was quickly stifled by their lips smashing together again.

Without warning, Barry unzipped the sleeping bag and shoved Hank onto his back. As his back thudded against the ground, he whined in a way he was almost ashamed of. Barry was sliding up between his thighs before he could even gather his thoughts. He was unaware that his legs were so easily spread until he felt Barry’s erection press up against his own, and soon, Barry’s full weight was on him. He was pinned to the floor. He could feel thick, coarse chest hair brushing against his own bare skin. He could feel strong arms at his sides and breath on his face. He could feel Barry begin to grind against him as their lips reconnected and if he said he wasn’t eager to be fucked then and there, he was lying.

Their kisses turned sloppy, but neither of them cared. Barry’s skin was slowly becoming slick with sweat. Hank could smell it, just a little. It was fresh on his body, musky and so very _ masculine _. He took in the scent and rolled his hips in a way that made Barry groan into the kiss, deep and delicious. 

Barry broke away to catch his breath, letting the slightly cooler air around them seep in for a moment. Their hips continued to rock against each other and Hank’s cock ached sweetly at the friction, fighting against the fabric of their boxers.

“Ah!”

Hank softly yelped as Barry’s lips unexpectedly landed at his neck. Hot breath and lazy kisses slid across his skin, stubble tickling him as Hank pushed out a half-moan, half-laugh that a gentle hum in response meant Barry definitely approved of. As his lips slipped over Hank’s collarbone, he was almost certain he heard Barry whisper his name. 

He continued downwards, exploring Hank’s body in the dark, kissing over his chest until his lips tentatively closed over one of Hank’s hard nipples, drawing out a sharp gasp from him. Barry’s mouth was hot on his tender skin and Hank’s thighs couldn’t stop themselves from squeezing around Barry, just a little. He felt a gentle vibration as Barry hummed again, and Hank’s fingers threaded themselves through his hair encouragingly.

“Oh, _ Barry… _”

There was a squeeze on his hip and Barry’s tongue flicked over his nipple for a moment before he heard a faint _ click _of teeth against something hard. He felt Barry pull away.

“...I guess I should have expected you’d have a nipple piercing.”

A proud smirk spread across Hank’s face, his fingers twisted around a short lock of hair and he chuckled. There was something comforting about the feeling of Barry’s lips curling into a smile against his skin or the soft breath that came with it. Barry was so lovely when he smiled, even if Hank couldn’t see it.

Barry kept heading further down, his lips skimming Hank’s toned stomach and several tattoos Barry couldn’t see, but Hank knew he would find them in the morning sunlight. He began to wonder how long this had been on Barry’s mind. He’d never told Hank he was anything other than straight, but then again, he’d never actually told Hank that he was straight in the first place. His mind started to race with thoughts of Barry being curious, Barry wanting him this whole time, Barry using him as some kind of experiment. Was he Barry’s_ first _? His cock twitched and his stomach suddenly fluttered at the thought that Barry was actually about to go down on him.

Hank let his eyes close again, and he took in a small breath as he felt Barry’s fingers curl over the waistband of his boxers. Barry took his time, tugging slowly, and Hank purred in response to his teasing until he finally felt his cock spring free from the fabric.

He waited. Barry lingered just above him. He could feel every breath ghosting over his twitching erection and trembling thighs, getting hotter as Barry inched closer. He whined, his back arched involuntarily and he hoped Barry knew just how long he had been wanting this.

The sound of a soft swallow was enough to make Hank’s head lift. The faint, shaky intake of breath was not a particularly promising sound. The sleeping bag rustled and he felt Barry back away.

“...I-I can’t-”

In a gentle panic, Hank shimmied away from the sleeping bag and got to his knees. He stuck out his hands, seeking Barry’s hairy forearms, and he held them comfortingly.

“Hey, don’t worry, it’s okay...”

“...I just- I dunno if I’m ready for that.”

Hank felt an aching in his chest at Barry’s soft, hesitant voice. He didn’t need him to explain. He gently shushed him, finding his way to Barry’s cheek with his hand and placing a kiss there.

“That’s_ totally _ fine, just chill...” Hank reassured him. His hand stroked one of Barry’s broad, strong shoulders, and as he kissed his cheek once more, Barry turned his head and caught his lips.

They kissed, soft and unhurried, their limbs gradually tangling again as their bodies slowly made their way back down to the ground. The wind or the owls or the rabid bears prowling around the forest suddenly seemed unimportant. Barry held him close, and Hank never wanted to be the one to say he _ knew it _, but he knew it all along. He knew his affections weren’t misplaced. He knew Barry cared for him, as much as he might not have wanted to say it aloud.

They spent a while just kissing, letting the world around them fall away as their tongues delicately brushed and their hands continued to roam. They were both still sorely hard, and Hank loved how Barry’s hips would twitch and buck with every touch. He pulled back, just a little, to kiss at Barry’s neck.

“How are you feeling?” He purred against his skin, nuzzling the coarse stubble.

The mixture of a groan and a whimper arose from Barry and vibrated on Hank’s lips. Barry would gasp and whine with each peck, lick and occasional faint nibble. Hank was very proud of himself for being able to turn a 6’2 adonis into a whining mess, but it wasn’t his first time performing such a trick.

“I take it that’s good?”

Swiftly, Barry snatched up Hank’s wrist. Strong fingers gripped him and yanked his arm away, making Hank’s breath catch in his throat. Was this it? Was he done now? Panic started to set in as Hank wondered what Barry would look like, had there been any light at all. All he knew was that his wrist was being held by a man twice his strength, and the only thing he could hear was gruff breaths.

“Barry- _ Barry _, let-”

He was cut off as his hand was shoved down and his palm landed upon warm fabric, and soon he was cupping the hot, girthy shaft of Barry’s pulsing cock.

“_ Oh _…”

Barry caught him again in a kiss, with tense, shaking breaths pushing their way out of him. Hank let out a sigh of relief and his hand stroked him painstakingly slow over his underwear, travelling all the way up to the head, which was desperately trying to fight its way out from under the fabric. 

Hank could feel himself throbbing, widening just at the feeling. The number of times he’d thought about this exact moment was almost disgraceful. Every movement from here on out had been joyfully rehearsed over and over in his mind, planned out with care as he touched himself in private, in the shower, in bed, in his sleep, even with Cristobal. He knew he had to enjoy every moment of this, there could be no holding back.

He kept stroking and moved down to make himself comfortable between Barry’s bulky, warm thighs. He dragged his free hand over one of them, hard muscle twitching beneath his touch. Barry’s breathing was deep and ragged, and Hank began to feel rather powerful. Seeing Barry of all people be reduced to a desperate, horny mess was just as amusing as it was arousing. He pulled at Barry’s boxers and braced himself.

His fingers brushed bushy pubes that surrounded his swollen, straining cock. He wrapped his hand around the thick shaft with total confidence. It was weighty, pulsating as Hank took in the delectable, familiar musk that he found so heavenly. Hank’s response was Pavlovian, his mouth filled with saliva at the mere thought of tasting him. His wrist moved lazily and he brought him closer as tense excitement rose in his stomach. Just as the head of Barry’s cock met his saliva-slick lips, he stopped.

“…Barry? Do you want me to-”

Barry whined croakily, loud and obscene, his hips twitching up into Hank’s fist.

“** _Please_ **,”

And that was that. The head of Barry’s erection was pushed greedily past his lips. Drool dripped down the shaft, slicking it before it even had a chance to enter his mouth. Hank hummed with contentment at Barry’s sudden gasp and he sucked at the tip with sheer concentration, using his spit covered palm on Barry’s cock to keep the rhythm, but licking at the slit and tasting his pre-come for his own self-enjoyment. It dribbled out, warm and salty, and Hank let it pool on his tongue before swallowing gratefully. 

He bobbed his head, never taking in more than just the tip, happy to make Barry crave more. His own cock smarted with pressure, he tried to thrust himself up against something, but nothing could scratch his itch. This was his _ favourite _ part. 

Barry thrust up into his hand, which Hank noted as a little desperate, but he admired his enthusiasm. His tongue expertly swirled and flicked at the head, and for once, he felt superior. He could finally show off his talents. He could give Barry pleasures he wouldn’t find anywhere else. He felt important.

He pulled his lips away from Barry’s cock, tightening his hold on the shaft just a little, letting strings of drool stretch and drip down his chin. He shifted further down with total smugness, moving one hand to prop himself up, and slowly, proudly, took his balls into his mouth.

“Oh,** _ fuck_ **-”

“_ Mmm… _”

Hank’s tongue swirled as he sucked them in, boasting and heavy, and let his mouth massage them. He worked in time with his wrist, steadily, leisurely servicing him. He moaned gratefully, stretching his tongue as far as it could go and allowing his eyelids to flutter out of pure self-satisfaction.

Barry pushed out huffs similar to beefy, rugged men lifting weights at the gym, the ones who would eye Hank up and catch him later in the showers, the ones who _ certainly _ didn’t match up to Barry. He sounded as though he was trying to steady himself. Hank could hear his hands roaming, covering his mouth, clutching the sleeping bag, slamming down on the floor of the tent, unsure of what to do with themselves. The sense of fulfilment that bloomed inside Hank made him even more determined to keep Barry writhing about and craving more. 

“Hank,” Barry choked out, pushing up into Hank’s slowly moving hand. 

“_ Hank..! _”

Hank sucked harder. He slurped and swallowed around his balls, gradually tightening his grip on Barry’s cock and feeling the hot flesh pulse furiously in his fingers.

“_ Hank-! For fuck’s _ ** _sa_ ** _ \- _”

Hank pulled away with a moan and a lewd squelch as he released him, leaving his balls slick and wet.

“Yes, Barry...?” Hank responded with feigned innocence. 

Barry tried to bite back his trembling cry, hissing and grunting through what Hank suspected were gritted teeth. 

“J-Just_ suck my cock _.”

Hank was more than happy to oblige. He couldn’t help the mischievous smirk that pulled at his lips, and he wished Barry could see it. 

Taking his time, he settled into a more comfortable position, playing lazily with Barry and cooing at him as his frustration grew. He was, once again, poking the bear. The thrill of the uncertainty sent shockwaves buzzing to his own erection, and he ran his fingers over his aching shaft before finally turning his full attention back to Barry.

Barry groaned as Hank’s mouth enveloped him again, and his back arched off the floor. He flicked his tongue under the head and worked it around him, stretching his jaw wide as he accommodated more of Barry’s length. He carried on teasing, only allowing him to sink halfway inside, bobbing his head and building a rhythm. He hummed in appreciation as he felt Barry’s warm hand stroke his cheek supportively. Barry was such a good sport, letting Hank have the upper hand like that. He relished this opportunity for control, slowing his movements and letting the tip brush the back of his throat as Barry’s wandering hand drifted to the back of his head.

“** _Mmph-!_ **”

Hank’s breath was knocked out of him along with his smugness as his nose was forced into a nest of pubic hair and Barry’s long, thick cock plunged down his throat. He didn’t have time to gather his thoughts before Barry’s hips were snapping back and forth mercilessly, invading him as he tried to splutter and choke.

“Oh, my _ god, _” Barry cried.

His sudden loss of breath and Barry’s use of brute force had turned him dizzy. His skin burned with shame and pleasure as Barry seized control and the unpredictability that bubbled under the surface of Barry’s calm and collected personality reared its head. He could feel his hole pulsing, pre-come dribbling over the head of his own cock, and he cautiously reached between his thighs. He took his length into his hand and stroked himself, his thighs twitching at the sensation of finally being pleasured. He felt hot and swollen in his hand, wincing with each movement and every harsh throb. Barry continued to shove his head down repeatedly and refused to allow him to come up for air.

Hank loved the humiliation. He loved being used, he loved making himself useful. He felt _ honoured _, lucky to be the one Barry was doing this to. As long as Barry kept him around, Hank would allow him to do anything.

Hank’s throat was tight around Barry. His face burned red-hot, tears stung the corners of his eyes as his chest fought for breath, each attempt drawing his throat tighter and tighter. He could feel his racing heartbeat hammering throughout his whole body and Barry’s groans and cries started to sound muffled in his ears. The desperate need to cough and gag and _ breathe _ was making panic set in, he felt the pressure pounding down to his fingertips, his whole body turned as light as a feather, his whimpers were drowned in a sea of vulgar, wet sounds and if he didn’t come up soon-

His fingers found the strength to dig into the underside of Barry’s thighs, and almost immediately, his head was pushed away and Barry slid from his throat.

With shaking arms and a rushing head, he pulled himself up. He felt his whole body scorch white-hot as he took in a desperate breath and his lungs filled with air. The pressure that had been rising and pulsing through his frame was now rippling smoothly through across his skin, heated and blissful.

He felt Barry sit up and breathe in with him, his hand once again coming up to his cheek.

“You okay?”

Hank nodded against his hand, taking hold of his arm.

“...Barry, that was super hot and everything - and I liked it - but please do not ever do that again without warning me,” Hank panted. Barry seemed equally as breathless, cupping Hank’s face with both of his hands.

“Okay,” He breathed, leaning in to press a kiss to Hank’s drool-slick lips. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Hank couldn’t ever remember a time where Barry had apologised to him, for anything, but he figured apologising for a heat-of-the-moment face fucking was a rather good place to start.

Barry pressed a few more kisses to his lips before telling him to lay down.

Hank obeyed, still breathless, and before he knew it, Barry was between his thighs once more. Hank ran his hands over his broad chest and shoulders, slipping down to let his fingers drum over heavy biceps and strong forearms. It might have been due to the serious lack of oxygen, but he was swooning. Barry made Hank feel so delicate beneath his hands, he was rough and rugged with the strength and confidence of a superhero. Hank’s mind was elsewhere, and he hummed with a smile as Barry’s hands lifted up his thighs.

He felt Barry’s stiff, wet length slip between his cheeks, and panic jolted through him, forcing him to sit upright and push Barry back gently.

“O-Oh! No! No, no, wait-!”

“Huh?”

“Okay, that is _ not _ how we’re doing that.”

“...Do you not want to?” Barry’s hand softened its hold on Hank. His voice sounded faint, with an air of timidness that Hank couldn’t comprehend, but he enjoyed it all the same.

“I-I mean… Yes, I absolutely want to, just… Not like that, you know?”

“...Do you want to turn over?”

Hank bit his lip and stifled a laugh. How Barry became even more attractive while outing himself as sexually naive, Hank had no idea. He leaned in and found the tip of Barry’s nose in the dark, kissing him before scooting back to find his backpack.

“No, you silly. I mean we need lube!” Hank laughed, digging through his bag.

“Oh.”

“Why ‘oh’?”

“I didn’t know.”

“You _ didn’t know _ you needed lube for anal sex?”

“I’ve never had it!”

“_ You’ve never had sex? _”

“Not with a guy.”

“...Have you had sex with a lady?”

“_Wh-_ **_Yes_**, I’ve had sex with a woman.”

“You can tell me if you haven’t.”

“Hank, fucking give me the lube.”

“I like it when you boss me around like that.”

“_ Hank _,”

Hank found Barry’s hand and placed a condom in his palm, which he heard Barry crinkling.

“Put that on first.”

He helped him roll on the condom, something that Barry insisted he didn’t need help with, but Hank wanted to help anyway. Barry sighed as Hank slicked him up, teasingly stroking his shaft before laying back. He took Barry’s fingers, pouring lube over them and guiding his hand down to his hole.

As Barry touched him, he whispered something Hank couldn’t hear, and for a moment he worried if Barry was going to back off again. But he kept going. Hank moaned softly at the feeling of Barry’s finger rubbing at him, teasing his hole, pushing in gently and moving away again. His whole body was throbbing, vibrating with anticipation, half of him feeling so lucky to have Barry doing this to him at all, and the other half of him urgently needing Barry to ravish him.

When he felt Barry’s tip start to push against him, he took in a breath. It was finally happening. Slowly, the head of his cock slipped inside him, drawing out a whine from Hank. He was pulsing around him, drawing Barry in deeper. Hank’s breaths soon became harder and faster as he was stretched out wider, taking in Barry’s size. The familiar, sweet burn was a sensation he couldn’t get enough of, it strummed in him with a steady rhythm, one he was sure Barry felt around him because soon he was groaning too. He leaned more of his weight on Hank as he pushed in further.

“..._ Fuck _…” Hank whimpered. 

Barry hooked his arms under Hank’s knees, keeping his legs up, and with a final push, Barry was fully inside him. They took a moment to breathe together, not having the words to say, but not needing them either. Hank felt fuller than he’d ever been, like Barry had taken over every inch of him and claimed him as his own. He held Barry’s arms and clung to the large frame that towered over him. Hank could feel Barry starting to squirm in desperate need of movement, but he saw no harm in making him wait a little longer and pulled his head closer to kiss him. 

With mischief once again tickling at him, he let himself squeeze around Barry, and he was quickly satisfied once Barry choked out a whimper.

“...Are-… Are you ready?” Barry asked abashedly.

Hank couldn’t help but smile. Barry acting like _ this _ was so new, so unusual and so very attractive. As much as he loved the idea of his big, macho man taking him in his arms and making him see stars, it was just as entertaining to see Barry grow accustomed to the new sensations Hank was introducing him to. Hank’s heart soared with every soft gasp, whine and whimper. Barry’s gentle, timid noises sounding alongside his rough touches and unsteady, depraved movements, made Hank hungry to play with him even more.

Hank’s fingers gently scratched at stubble, bringing his face closer and letting Barry’s breath ghost over him. Barry moved with Hank’s touches, focusing his full attention on the lips brushing against his own.

“_ Fuck me. _”

“_ Oh, god, _” Barry moaned, gasping as he pulled himself backwards, only to thrust back in again with a force that made the both of them cry out. He kept moving, his slow, hard thrusts pushing each intake of Hank’s breath right back out again.

“H-How does it feel?” Barry asked, with a gentle hand on Hank’s waist making his words come across more concerned than sexy.

It felt like Barry was pushing right up to his throat. He felt it in every nerve, pressing through him, making his whole body ache in the loveliest way. He could feel himself beginning to sweat, his skin sticking and melting with Barry’s. They moved together as Hank savoured the slow rhythm, adjusting to sweet, careful movements that admittedly, Hank wasn’t used to. His fingers gripped at tufts of chest hair and he groaned, thoroughly losing himself in pleasure.

“_ Barry, _ ” Hank panted. “You feel _ so _ fucking good,”

That was enough to make Barry speed up, taking Hank by surprise with his moans and sudden, erratic thrusts. The rhythm he built was quickly forgotten about and he gripped Hank’s hips, pulling him back on his cock needily. Hank gasped and mewled at the frantic movements but put his hands out, pushing on Barry’s chest.

“S-Stop, stop, stop-”

Barry obeyed him, and his movements drew to a halt.

“Are you okay?”

There was that fluttering in Hank’s stomach again. 

“Yeah, just don’t go too fast. You need to chill, be slower.”

Barry moved his hips again, sheepishly. Small, slow movements, in and out of Hank. He placed his hands back on Hank’s thighs, and Hank stirred with him, straightening him out.

“Like this… Move with me, Barry.”

Hank rolled his hips, encouraging Barry to do the same, every once in a while reminding him to just _ chill _, and they eventually settled into something comfortable. Not too slow, but not racing to their orgasms. Barry leaned in and his hand travelled all the way up Hank’s right arm, above his head, and pinned it there. When he interlocked their fingers, Hank could have melted on the spot.

A sudden, warm bliss spread through him as the tip of Barry’s cock started to rub his prostate. He purred, wrapping his legs around Barry’s waist and pulling him in further.

“Oh, _ fuck _, Barry-”

“Yeah?”

They pressed their sweating foreheads together, neither of them wanting to pull away. Hank’s free hand held Barry’s face, feeling his jaw move with each gasp.

“Right there…” It was all Hank could manage to whimper.

“Right there?”

“_ Mhm, _” Hank whined.

Hank would have been impressed with Barry’s concentration and his focus on hitting Hank’s sweet spot if his mind could have conjured up any thoughts at all. All of his senses were being attacked. He could hardly catch his breath, his insides were ablaze but his skin was covered in a cool tingle, Barry’s nose was pushing into his and their lips desperately searched for each other, almost kissing but stopping themselves to mindlessly whisper and whimper words that never made it out of their mouths.

Barry picked up the pace again. His breaths were fast and gruff, and Hank felt his hands move back to fix their grasp on his thighs. The heat flourished inside him as Barry stroked his prostate faster and harder. Hank’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him tight to his chest, his hands running over Barry’s broad back and his nails scratching faintly at his damp skin.

Barry’s thrusts began to tremble and he stammered raspy obscenities. Hank knew Barry was close. He wanted to stop him, to make him slow down and save his orgasm. He couldn’t. It felt too good. Barry was massaging his sweet spot, the head of his cock repeatedly pushed against it, sending quivering shocks to his dribbling, sore erection and letting them sizzle their way through his skin.

Hank wasn’t close to coming yet, but he knew he soon would be. He could feel it building with each hard thrust, slowly but surely, and wondered if Barry would finish him off in time. Barry seemed to be speeding to his orgasm, his head was tucked firmly into the crook of Hank’s neck and his groans were loud and muffled. Although Barry was sweet, although he cared, Hank was suddenly struck with the worry that Barry would not finish him off if he came first. His hesitation to touch him, properly touch him, was understandable but typical for a _ so-called _ straight man. He didn’t know how he would deal with the potential awkwardness of Barry leaving him - for lack of a better phrase - high and dry, and as Barry slammed into him, he decided he needed his orgasm.

“_ Hank _… I’m-“

“O-Okay, stop.”

“Wh-“

“Barry, not yet.”

So, Barry stopped. Hank held a reassuring hand to his face, and he felt Barry carefully slide out of him. Hank whimpered at the feeling of his hole pulsing and contracting in response to Barry’s absence. 

“...Did I do something wrong?” Barry asked breathlessly.

Hank felt almost guilty, doubting and denying him like that, but he knew it wouldn’t be for long. He sat up, cupped Barry’s jaw, and kissed him sweetly. Barry’s touches were cautious and gentle and it made Hank’s head spin.

“Nuh-uh, not at all. You’re doing great.” Hank reassured him. He kissed him and softly pushed Barry to lay down on his back, following his movements and not breaking the kiss. He felt Barry nod.

“Remember, _ chill _. Save it. It will totally be worth it, promise.” 

“Okay…” Barry agreed, still breathless.

Hank took the time to kiss him and caress his body, returning to the large, bulky muscles he couldn’t get enough of. He caressed Barry’s chest as it rose and fell. He could feel Barry pulling himself back from the edge, his wild, unpredictable lover turned into a timid, obeying soul as he explored unfamiliar territory. It was magical to behold.

Climbing on top of Barry, he leaned in, again finding his face with his nose and using a kiss to signal his presence. He nibbled his way down Barry’s neck, humming at the return of Barry’s appreciative moans and the feeling of his hulking arms closing in over Hank’s back.

“Hank, _ please _,” begged Barry. It was something Hank thought he would never hear and more satisfying than anything he could have expected.

“Not yet, mister,” giggled Hank, teasingly wiggling his hips.

He felt hands on his ass, and he gasped as the sudden shift of Barry’s hips brought his still hard length between Hank’s cheeks. He stayed silent, taken aback by the sensation of Barry squeezing him, sliding himself up and down as he pleased. Hank couldn’t help but mewl every time Barry would just brush past his hole. It would only take a small change of angle to have him lined up and pushing back in again. Hank nibbled on his lip and let himself move with Barry, shamefully loving the feeling of being teased, despite his efforts to deny Barry for just a little longer. 

Hank’s hand shyly held his own cock, and he began to make long, lazy strokes in time with Barry’s pushes. He was going to keep Barry waiting, determined to make him beg a little more. He moaned at how Barry’s small, slowing thrusts were concentrating near his hole, and he hoped those movements were making Barry sting. He silently prayed that Barry would stop eventually and plead to fuck him, just like before. He kept stroking himself, letting out delicate purrs as Barry began to shift again, angling himself differently. Barry made a breathy moan along with him, and he stopped. He wasn’t lining himself up with Hank’s hole, not at all. He wasn’t pressing himself harder and harder against it, Hank had already told him to wait.

“_ Fuck… _”

Hank wasn’t pushing himself back on Barry. He wasn’t going to give in like that. He wasn’t easing himself further and further down over the tip, absolutely not. His thighs began to shake as the head of Barry’s cock entered him, and soon Hank genuinely couldn’t tell which one of them brought him down all the way. They groaned in unison, and Barry sat himself up to capture Hank’s lips in a deep kiss.

“_ Barry _ , oh my _ god _,”

Barry’s hands grabbed at any part of Hank he could get to. He remained still, resting his forehead against Hank’s. Hank felt huffs of breath on his face and his plan to be the one in control began to melt away while he was wrapped in Barry’s arms. He was too caught up in the sensation of being filled and stretched to reciprocate Barry’s passionate kisses.

“I like how you sound when you say my name,” Barry turned to mutter against Hank’s skin. Hank moaned in response, smiling as the stubble tickled him. 

“Oh, really now?”

“I’ve always liked it...”

“_ Oh.. _.”

Barry carefully pushed his hips up, wiping whatever words Hank had for him right out of his mind. All Hank could do was allow Barry to take him however he wanted to. As Barry thrust up into him, he felt his limbs turning weak and he let himself crumble at Barry’s words. Hank rested his head on Barry’s shoulder, wrapping his legs properly around his waist and moaning faintly into Barry’s skin.

They melted into each other, becoming a mess of kisses, entwined limbs and rolling hips. Barry moaned Hank’s name with pained desperation, bucking upwards, the intensity building with each movement. Hank could feel it, he could feel the heat rising inside him again. He could feel the prickles on his skin and that quiver of pleasure making his muscles clench.

He took it upon himself to move faster, bouncing himself up and down, and Barry understood soon enough. Just as Hank moved his hand to reach down, he felt Barry’s fingers wrap around his erection and begin to stroke him, resulting in a shuddering cry from Hank. The movements of his wrist were shy at first, but Hank’s appreciative groans and eager cries quickly increased his confidence.

Soon Barry was bucking up, hard. One hand on Hank’s cock and the other gripping his ass, he pounded uncontrollably, rubbing against his sweet spot. Hank’s fingers twisted into Barry’s hair, forcing him to release a delicious hiss. Hank was unbearably close to the edge. He could feel it, tightening in his thighs, his muscles tensing while he clung to Barry for dear life. There was no pulling back from this one.

“_ F-Fuck… Fuck... _” Barry spat mindlessly. His hard, gruff breaths almost imitated growls. Hank knew Barry was approaching the edge, and it filled him with overwhelming pleasure to know he was the one getting him there, pushing him closer, shoving him over. 

“..._Hank-_ _I’m gonna come… I’m coming…_”

It was all Hank needed to hear. It was all he had wanted to hear for the longest time. His orgasm engulfed him. The release of pressure was slow, icy shock waves surged over fiery skin and he felt it squeezing, squeezing every part of him, squeezing the air from his lungs and every muscle in his body. His back arched, his head tipped back and he knew he was crying Barry’s name but he couldn’t hear himself. He couldn’t hear anything. The world around him burned away as he writhed in the flames, with Barry’s hands grabbing and warping his skin like clay. 

He dragged a hand up to Barry’s lips, the last of his consciousness letting Barry know he was present for _ his _ orgasm, too. Barry’s jaw stretched, his mouth opened and his lips were attempting to form words Hank couldn’t quite distinguish through touch alone. He rode Barry slower and slower, his body jolting in response to each thrust. As relief flowed through him, he revelled in his own obscenity and brought his hand to his stomach, letting his fingertips smear his own seed across his hairless abs. 

He was pulled to Barry’s chest, limp, quivering and catching his breath. The world was gradually fading back into existence. He was pulled back down to earth by the weight of himself, and brought back into the moment by the feeling of Barry’s kisses on his shoulder, travelling up to his lips. They panted together, foreheads resting together once more. Barry carefully laid back, unhurriedly sliding out of Hank, his movement accompanied by one final whimper from both of them.

Hank floated back to the ground next to Barry. He caught his lips in lazy kisses and gentle touches. He couldn’t bring himself to formulate any real thoughts. The remnants of his orgasm still buzzed faintly in him, and he felt weaker with every twitch of muscle. Soon he was being cradled in Barry’s arms and kissed with a tenderness he still wasn’t used to, a tenderness he was so grateful for. With the last of his strength, he curled up against Barry, resting his head on Barry’s broad chest and gently playing with the hair that laid there.

He could feel himself drifting off, melting into Barry, safe and sound.

* * *

The morning sunlight inched its way up the sky above them. The warm glow seeped into their tent and poured over their slumbering bodies where they laid still and calm, huddled in a mess of sleeping bags, blankets and their own clothes. Barry’s chest was pressed up against Hank’s back, Hank was clasped tight to him and Barry had his face buried in Hank’s shoulder, snoring quietly against smooth skin.

Hank awoke to the chirping of birds and an unbearable dryness scratching at his throat. He was snug, but too warm. The heat itched at his skin and he found himself needing to breathe. He peeled open his eyes and let them come into focus before he spotted the bottle of water peeking out from his backpack. As he attempted to reach over, and to kick back a blanket or a discarded shirt, he felt himself be pulled right back into place, followed by a faint grunt. 

He looked down at himself to see Barry’s arm clutching him. His gaze travelled over as he turned his head, being met with Barry’s bare shoulders and torso just peeking out from under a blanket. It made him nervous, feeling Barry’s face pressed into his neck and hot breath on his skin. If it was an accident, Barry was sure going to be embarrassed when he woke up. He carried on scanning the tent, his eyes landing on a pair of boxers that looked old and grey, certainly not his own. It took him a moment, but the idea that Barry was cuddling him, evidently totally _ nude _ , made his heart start to pound. It was hot, but rather funny, Hank had to admit. If _ that _ was an accident, he had no clue how Barry was going to pull himself back from that one. His eyes carried on scanning the tent, his desperate need for water pulling them back over to where his backpack sat, and then, he saw it.

The opened, empty condom wrapper.

A tight squeeze from Barry set the wheels in motion, and the events of the night swiftly rushed back to him. The scratch of Barry’s stubble, the sound of his moans, the feeling of himself being filled and pushed and pulled every which way. It all came back. His face grew hot and he smirked to himself, his stomach tingled and he thanked his lucky stars. He thanked himself for reading _ The Secret _ all those months ago and he _ knew _that buying all those crystals wasn’t a waste of money like Cristobal said it was. He rested his hand over Barry’s, feeling playfully scandalous.

Glancing over at Barry once more, he surveyed his biceps and whatever else that wasn’t covered by a blanket. He would be lying if he said it wasn’t feeding his ego. This muscleman, this _ stallion _ , was all his. Barry wanted him, and Hank got to have him, _ finally _. He was already considering the possibility of running away with him, maybe even getting married in Vegas and gambling all the money they had, which would, of course, result in huge winnings and would allow them to adopt new identities and open a small bakery together in a different state. Hank never asked for much.

Barry stirred next to him and immediately brought him back to Earth. He shifted, giving Hank enough room to reach for his water bottle. 

“Good morning, handsome...” Hank said coyly, proceeding to gulp down lukewarm water. Barry’s mouth was still pressed to his skin. The pause between Hank’s words and Barry’s response stretched on long enough for Hank to be convinced he was still sleeping.

“G’morning,” muttered Barry. 

Hank breathed in, basking in the glory of those words finally being exchanged. It was a pity they weren’t in Hank’s bedroom, where Hank could get out of his cosy bed and slip into a fancy silk robe just to tie the whole fantasy together. He’d make them coffee and they’d go out for brunch. They’d hold hands in public and it would be _ perfect _.

Barry took the bottle from Hank and guzzled the rest of his water, letting the plastic crinkle in his hand. Hank shifted to face him, gasping amusedly at the sight of Barry up close. He got to see every soft wrinkle starting to take its place on his skin and each faint freckle dotted around his cheeks. Little tufts of hair stuck up here and there, odd locks formed loose waves and dark brown hair wove with strands of grey. His eyes were bleary, surrounded by lengthy, full lashes that made his heavy brows and dark circles look that much more mysterious.

“_ So _, last night was fun,” Hank suggested. He brushed a stray eyelash from Barry’s cheek and placed a kiss there. Barry nodded, shying away from meeting Hank’s gaze.

Hank observed him as he shoved away a blanket and got to his knees, trying to strategically cover himself as he pulled on his boxers and a T-shirt, but Hank still got to see what he needed to. What a _ hunk _. Perhaps Barry wasn’t too talkative in the morning, Hank assumed. That was okay, he could get used to it. He cherished peace and quiet. As Barry made his way over to the other side of the tent, Hank counted his blessings, feeling grateful to have such a peaceful and wise lover.

“I’m gonna go pee,” Barry murmured.

-

They sat in silence in front of the fire once more. Hank blew on his freshly boiled tea, feeling small next to Barry. Barry hadn’t had a conversation with him in approximately 10 minutes, and Hank only knew that because the only time they conversed was when he asked Barry for the time, which was approximately 10 minutes ago. There was a gurgling in his guts as he slowly came to the realisation that Barry probably wasn’t pondering the complexities of the human condition. He fidgeted in his chair, unable to get comfortable, still pushed up next to Barry. Barry was, once again, staring at the fire. He was hunched over awkwardly, almost perched on the edge of his seat. 

The beauty of nature began to feel unnatural around them. Hank couldn’t shake the feeling that they were imposing, overstaying their welcome and forcing negative vibes on this beautiful woodland. The sunlight that Hank was so excited to bask in and welcome as it brought in a new day suddenly felt disapproving. He tore his eyes away from Barry and focused them on the ground in shame. He didn’t want it to be this way. He expected things would be different, but he hoped that meant things would be better. Hank usually found Barry’s taciturn nature endearing, but it was times like this that made him wish he wasn’t always so quiet.

“Talk to me, Barry,” Hank sighed. “Please.”

“...I just…” with an impassive shrug of his shoulders and a shake of his head, Barry squinted at the flames. “...I dunno.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I don’t know, Hank. I just- I don’t know about this.”

Hank’s heart sank and he closed his eyes as the sting settled in. He knew he should have seen it coming. He should have known it was too good to be true. He was mortified. Knowing he gave himself so easily to Barry, revealed such precious desires that he held inside since they met, only for it all to be tossed aside the moment the sun rose, it slaughtered a part of his spirit. 

“You mean you don’t know about _ us _.”

“...There isn’t an ‘_ us _’, Hank.”

Those words pierced him like no bullet ever could. Pangs of humiliation seared through him, shaking him to his core. He felt feeble, shrunken, his lower lip threatening to wobble as he sunk lower in his seat.

“There could be.”

That was his last attempt. He had nothing to lose, but he guessed he also had nothing to fight for. He began to dread the freezing nights in the tent with nothing to cuddle up to, but nothing could be as chilly as the silence that would follow them for the remainder of their stay. Hank could feel it already, sweeping between them, overpowering the glowing morning sun and the small fire in front of them, whipping itself into a frenzy.

“I know,” croaked Barry, turning his head away just a little. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

For once, Hank didn’t know what to say. He opened his mouth, but it was a wasted effort. His breath was caught in his throat, words tangled on his tongue as he began to well up.

Barry turned back to face him and his expression softened at the sight of Hank, slumped in the chair next to him, defeated. 

“I’m sorry. _ Fuck _, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have-” 

“Why are you so afraid?” interrupted Hank, allowing his soft voice to tremble.

It was Barry’s turn to be speechless. He began to scramble for words before he gave up, his gaze dropping and watching Hank’s fingers timidly drum on his cup of tea. He shrugged again.

“...I-I just… How am I supposed to tell people?”

“...Who said you have to tell people?”

Hank would never have advocated for dishonesty, usually. Honesty was _ always _ the best policy… apart from when it wasn’t. Being a mob boss sometimes required him to keep a couple of secrets, and it required him to urge others to keep a couple as well. This was no different.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he gingerly reached out to hold Barry’s hand, who responded by stroking it gently with his thumb. “You don’t have to tell anyone. I can keep you employed, we go out on business trips, meet up a couple times a week, you know?”

Barry chewed on his lip, not daring to look Hank in the eye.

“Hank… I don’t want to have to kill people just to be with you.”

“You can be my physical trainer.”

“That’s ridiculous, we’ll be found out straight away.”

Hank held in a giggle. If there was ever a good time to let slip a secret, it was now.

“Nobody found out last time.”

“Huh?”

“_ Ryan Madison? _ He was on me before he ever got to Goran’s wife. I mean, how do you think he met Oksana in the first place?”

Barry simply stared at him, wide-eyed and still. Hank could see the cogs turning in his head, connecting bits of information to other bits of information. Hank nodded supportively as Barry took it in.

“..._ Okay _, wow.”

“Found out he was bailing on our_ ‘training’ _ sessions to _ ‘train’ _ Oksana instead, so I drop a few hints to Goran and next thing I know, we’re calling _ you _ to make him go bye-bye.”

Their gazes stayed fixed on one another’s. A smirk was playing at Hank’s lips, but Barry wasn’t responding.

“I mean- I’m not going to get you _ killed _ if that is what you’re thinking. _ No _ way,” continued Hank. “You can’t kill me either, though.”

Barry finally nodded, continuing to stroke Hank’s tattooed hand with his thumb. He pursed his lips as he thought, keeping his eyesight elsewhere.

“We have a deal, yes?”

“...Deal.” sighed Barry.

Hank beamed up at him, wiggling his hand playfully in a mock handshake. His eyes were still a little bleary, but they sparkled nonetheless. 

“Can you kiss me now, please? And stop being so negative Nigel on me?”

Taking the tea from Hank’s hand, he carefully set it down on the ground before swooping in to capture his lips in a rough kiss. It was the kind of kiss that left no room for Hank to breathe, but so satisfying that Hank didn’t care if he ever breathed again. For a moment he wondered what Barry’s obsession with trying to cease his vital functions was all about, but he soon forgot about it as the kiss softened and Barry’s hand was brought to his jaw.

They leaned awkwardly over the arms of the chairs and Hank brought up a hand to play with Barry’s still messy hair. The tips of their tongues slipped out and brushed against each other softly, drawing out a delicate, breathy hum from Hank. He could finally let his body relax. His mouth moved with Barry’s, soft, well-moisturised lips pushing and skimming against chapped ones. They stayed kissing for a minute or so before they broke apart.

“So, what’s the plan for today, then?” Hank asked.

Barry looked around, being faced with nothing but trees that seemed to stretch on forever in every direction.

“We could go hiking?”

Hank shot him a pained look, with added puppy dog eyes. Barry sighed.

“There’s a lake not too far from here?”

“Oh! We can go-”

“We’re not skinny dipping, Hank.”

Hank slumped back down in his chair.

  
“Picnic?” suggested Barry.

“_ Yes _.”

* * *

They had walked for about 10 minutes, with Hank tripping over branches here and there, occasionally asking Barry if he was _ sure _ he knew where they were going. Barry insisted he _ did _ know because he visited the lake all the time on his camping trips. Hank asked if he ever brought anyone else. Barry said no. Hank wondered how lonely it must have been for him.

As they trudged side by side, they chatted away, with Hank occasionally stopping to pick up a ladybug or re-tie his leopard print combat boots.

“Was he any good?”

“Not really… He was hot stuff, but _ totally _ useless, if I’m being honest.”

Hank heard Barry try to stifle a laugh, and it made him smile.

“Why didn’t you just find someone else?”

Hank made an ‘I-don’t-know’ sound and coughed out a bug he thought he might have swallowed.

“...He was just _ rude _ , man. Says he cannot meet me at Holiday Inn because he has to be at audition, then I find out he’s _ actually _ at Holiday Inn with _ Oksana _! Can you believe that?”

“No, I can’t believe that.” 

“So, of course, he had to go. There is one thing I just cannot tolerate, and that is being disrespected. Also lactose.” sighed Hank.

Barry turned his head to try and push away a smile. His hand was outstretched slightly, and Hank was about to ramble on before he looked down and spotted it. He took hold of Barry’s warm hand and their fingers interlocked, slotting perfectly together. They continued onward in comfortable silence, and Hank felt a rising sense of excitement in his chest as he swung their arms gently. 

They carried on, communicating only through faint hand squeezes and thumb-rubs. The sun gave them its blessing, shining a cosy glow on the both of them. Hank began to see the world around them in vivid colour, birds sang away, announcing his and Barry’s grand adventure through the woods. 

  
He hoped, he _ knew _, that this was the beginning of something special.

**Author's Note:**

> it took me a whole month to write this!! this is the biggest thing I have ever written in my life, the longest and most in-depth sex scene i have ever even attempted, and if nobody appreciates it i shall be sorely upset. thank you for reading i love you all


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